


Our Captain, My Captain

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Skip, please, I-”  Arthur’s mouth froze when Martin looked back at him, unable to form the next words of his sentence, his mind still unsure as to what those words should be.  “I... I can’t imagine life without you.  I don’t,” Arthur shook his head, blinking away tears, “I don’t want to imagine it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Captain, My Captain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [A/M or A&M dialogue prompt](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6034.html?thread=11189906#cmt11189906) on the meme.

Arthur never imagined that someone as brilliant as Mr. Lanahan could ever be the cause of something so very not brilliant.

He watched quietly as Martin packed the few personal items he kept in the portacabin into a box. His logbook, the nice one Douglas had bought him after that prank with the oatmeal took a turn for the worst. His books, the ones he read when they were on standby, mainly flight manuals with a few mystery novels tucked in between. His coffee cup, white with a splash of blue paint that was meant to be an aeroplane, a Christmas gift from his nieces that he valued more than he let on.

There was an unnaturalness to the emptiness left behind by every object Martin packed away. A smudge of their existence remained, like attempting to erase a word with a bad rubber; they weren’t entirely gone and that incompleteness just called attention to the fact that they once were there.

Not even Mr. Lanahan’s ranch of camels, llamas, and alpacas could make this brilliant.

This wasn’t brilliant. This wasn’t all right.

This was _awful_.

Arthur fought against the horrible churning in his stomach as Martin closed the lid on the box.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything, Skip?”

Martin glanced up, well aware that Arthur had been watching him the whole time.

“I think so,” he said with a small nod.

“Your logbook?”

“Yes.”

“Your coffee cup?”

“Yup.”

“Your books?”

“Ye-”

“Are you sure, Skip?” Arthur butt in, springing from his perch on Douglas’ desk. He threw himself down in front of the little shelf between the two pilots’ desks and stuck his hand into the gap between the shelf and the wall. A single pass told him there was nothing there but he continued to search for something he knew he’d never find. “Because sometimes your books would fall out of the back because the shelf’s broken. Mum knew it was broken when she bought it but she bought it anyway because it was cheap. I wanted to fix it but I didn’t know how and Mum said-”

Martin’s hand wrapped around his wrist, stilling his futile motions. Arthur looked up to see Martin crouched beside him with a sad smile on his face. He still wasn’t quite sure how a smile could be sad but Arthur knew what Martin’s smile looked like when he was happy and it wasn’t how he’d been smiling since Mr. Lanahan made his proposal.

“I’m sure I’ve got them all, Arthur.”

Martin got to his feet and held out his hand to help Arthur to his. As soon as he was upright, Arthur threw his arms around Martin, pulling his captain, his co-worker, his friend into a tearful hug.

“Are you sure you want to go, Skip?”

“Arthur.” Martin sighed into Arthur’s chest. “It’s not that I want to, I mean, I do want to but, but because of the job, not because I want to leave MJN. I can’t...” His arms tightened around Arthur, then loosened as he sighed again. “I can’t pass up this opportunity,” he said softly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Martin pulled back in the embrace so he could see Arthur’s face.

“You understand, right, Arthur? Mr. Lanahan’s giving me a command position in his east coast division.” Martin’s smile warmed as he talked, growing in size and sincerity. “I’ll fly jets as large as 747s. I’ll get paid more money than my dad ever thought I’d make. I’ll be a captain, Arthur, a _real_ airline captain.”

“But you’re already a captain, Skip,” Arthur protested. “You’re our captain.”

The smile fell off Martin’s face as he seemed to look anywhere but at Arthur.

“Douglas is captain now,” he mumbled, stepping back, out of Arthur’s hug. “Perhaps as he always should’ve been. Hopefully the new first officer is sharp enough to keep up with him.”

Martin went to collect the box sitting on his desk. Arthur followed close behind him. He reached for Martin’s elbow as he turned for the door.

“Skip, please, I-” Arthur’s mouth froze when Martin looked back at him, unable to form the next words of his sentence, his mind still unsure as to what those words should be. “I... I can’t imagine life without you. I don’t,” Arthur shook his head, blinking away tears, “I don’t want to imagine it.”

Martin shifted the box to sit on his hip. He gently closed his hand around Arthur’s arm and pulled him into his space.

“It won’t be life without me, Arthur,” Martin tried to assure him. “It’ll just be life without me here, day-to-day. I’ll be just across the pond. You can email and call me every day, as long as you mind the time difference.”

“Every day?” Arthur sniffled.

Martin leaned his forehead against the steward’s. “Every day.” The sad smile again. “It’ll be like I never left.”

A loud, expensive-sounding horn blared outside the portacabin causing Martin to pull back and twist his head towards the door.

“That’ll be Mr. Lanahan,” he said, stating what they both knew. He squeezed Arthur’s arm and flashed him a grin. “Say goodbye to your mum and Douglas again for me?”

A nod was the most response Arthur could muster.

Martin opened the door and Arthur could see the sleek, black car sitting on the tarmac. He could see Martin getting into the car and waving goodbye from the window. He could see the months and years ahead without Martin as a part of MJN, as a part of his life. Arthur could see the Martin-shaped hole growing in his heart with every passing second, threatening to drown him in a sadness he’d never known.

“Skip!” he cried.

Martin turned back from the second to the last step descending from the portacabin door.

“Please don’t go,” Arthur begged. “ _Please_ , Martin. Don’t leave... us.”

Martin studied Arthur for a moment before wiping a hand across his face and dropping his eyes to the ground.

“I’ll call you when I land,” he said, starting down the stairs again. “Take care, Arthur.”

Martin was helped into the waiting car. He didn’t wave as they drove away from the portacabin.

Arthur crumbled into a pile in front of Martin’s desk. He pulled his knees to his chest as the sobs he’d been holding back overtook him. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his shoulders shook as his breath caught in his throat. He slumped against the desk, accidentally pushing it back a few centimeters. A yellow corner peeking out from under the desk caught Arthur’s eye. He snatched up the bag of Jelly Babies and hugged it to his chest. Arthur kept crying, unable to stop, unsure if he would ever remember how to.

Douglas came into the portacabin some time later. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours; Arthur had no way of knowing nor did he care.

Arthur faintly heard Douglas call his name before he knelt down beside him and enveloped him in an unusually soft hug. He felt Douglas’ hand on his head, gently stroking his hair like his mum did whenever he was exceptionally upset. There was a low murmur and a rumble in Douglas’ chest. It happened again, louder and a bit clearer this time, and Arthur realized Douglas was speaking.

“Did you tell him, Arthur?”

Arthur shook his head, turning fully into Douglas’ embrace and burying his tear-stained face in Douglas’ shirt. Douglas’ arms wrapped further around him, his hands rubbing soothing circles over Arthur’s back.

“He has to know,” Douglas said next to his ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.”

Arthur tightened his grip on Douglas, clutching the bag of Jelly Babies in his hand.

For the very first time, not even Arthur believed Douglas was clever enough to sort it all out.


End file.
